JUSTICE REBORN (A Charlie Taylor Novel Book 1) (27 page)

BOOK: JUSTICE REBORN (A Charlie Taylor Novel Book 1)
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 Manuel bled profusely but had been lucky.
Most of the knife blows hit the far side of his shoulder and upper arm, and
only a few strikes hit his neck. Wes’s preparation included a standby medical
emergency team who were working on the bleeding detective within minutes.

Manuel was going to be fine, but he would
never hear the end of his sojourn as a waiter where instead of a tip, the
customer stabbed him with a steak knife. 

 

 

                                               
# # #

 

At the hospital, Wes waited for assurances
from the medical team. Heavy footsteps in corridor alerted him; Charlie arrived
with a smile, handshake and more news.

 “When you get back to your desk, you’ll
find the rest of Jason’s history. Judge Stephen was able to force some sealed
records to be opened.

 The son of a bitch’s problems started in
his late teens, prior to that he was an honor student and star of the high
school track team and baseball team. The psychiatrists and his mother think the
origin may have been the accident at a baseball game, a freak occurrence. His
helmet fell off as he tried to steal third, and a major collision occurred,
resulting in a serious head injury. At first everything seemed all right, but
soon his mother noticed voices coming from his room when she knew no one else
was in the room.

Some of the police reports hint there may
be other factors at play, both his father and older brother had reputations as
neighborhood bullies, fast with fists and boots. The question often asked:
where did the head injury occur, on the playing field or at home?

In any case, young Jason had visitor, a
friend…….a partner……. no one else could see or hear her. This is not someone he
was prepared to share with anyone. Jason developed an attachment to his female
partner, discussed his problems with her, did his homework with her and
wouldn’t make decisions without a consultation. His mother insisted on further
medical intervention.

It’s about this time his father fell down
the basement stairs and almost didn’t survive the fall. His older brother
witnessed the accident, and it traumatized him; it became a life-changing event
for him……… he stopped being a bully and moved out of the city. The analysis
goes on for pages, but I think young Jason realized the only way to be released
from treatment was to cooperate and give all the right answers.

 Only one of the psychiatrists disagreed
and refused to stop sessions, but the treatment team overrode him, and Jason
was declared cured. The minority opinion: Jason’s problems were more serious.
You can read it all …..I stopped after about dozen pages.

The reason this record never surfaced,
during the west coast police interviews and background checks, is because it
all happened when he was a teenager, and it’d been sealed.  You look wiped
Wes…. You ok?” 

Wes smiled. The last thing he wanted to do
was to read a long psychiatrist’s report about a sick teenager. Charlie fired
one last question.

“Which room is Manuel’s?”

CHAPTER 43: Charlie’s Log: a
Watcher

Earlier this morning Sam called and woke me
with a warning.

He felt the necessity to remind me of
Emma’s appointment as the supervisor for the remaining S3 Interrogations at
Fort Green. His analysis: Emma, as a scientist, has always depended on logic;
she will ensure all scans are completed by the book, no guilty to escape, no innocent
to be executed. Dear Emma will be thorough, not prone to allow minor deviations
to become part of her work. Anyway, that’s his analysis and you can guess what
his advice was.

After a short, boring drive I’m now in the
prison parking lot, and I’m trying to be casual but it’s not working. The
milieu at Fort Green Prison rattles me; in the parking lot a  traffic jam of
ambulances line up to accept bodies. I was warned officials don’t know how many
are going to be executed each day so they always order a surplus of ambulances.

The local firms can’t deal with all the
work. Some of the bodies will be delivered to crematoriums a couple of hours
away from the city.  I walk the gantlet of ambulances; it’s a hot sunny
afternoon, and all the drivers are out, leaning or sitting on vehicles. They’re
smoking or just filling in the time with the usual gossip.

 There must be something going on because
the guards are in a full battle dress. I don’t see any prisoners in the
exercise yard, but it sounds like the prison symphony is playing, plates and
cups rattling against the bars. When I ask the guard at the first gate about
the mini-riot, he shakes his head and gives me a small smile.

 “Last night we received the latest Prison
Reform amendment; this pissed off many our guests and things are escalating. I
see you haven’t heard ….let me summarize.

First, all releases are on hold, even if
the original sentence has been served. They’re going after repeat offenders.
Fucking good news, if you ask me.

Second, all prisoners will have to go
through an S1 interrogation. But the part which appears to have the boys most
worked up is the definition of an ‘injury’ has been adjusted: the impact on the
victim will be the main focus. The example is given: a con artist who has
repeatedly wiped out the life savings of people could be viewed in the same
manner as a serial killer. Shit, I can’t believe it.

Our guests are really upset…an
interrogation revealing three or four serious fraud cases could lead to an S3
brain scan….shit …we will be locked down all weekend.”

I begin to understand. Jesus, I hope I’m
swifter when get to the Watchers’ station. I get the directions and begin a
slow walk. It’s a long walk, through many gates before I get to the assigned
room. The good news is they are expecting me and are ready.

 I start with the debriefing material,
including a live recording of an actual S3 interrogation. The package is
impressive. It’s well organized and thorough. I understand what is about to
happen. Son of a bitch. I have to keep it together for just a few more hours.
Ron Bowen will be the last Fort Green prisoner to be interrogated. This gives
me time to think about what I’m about to do, that damn Monk.

A Historian will be the only other Watcher,
and it’s John Wojecki. I’m not sure this is good news or not. John certainly
helped us with the Five Star Couple, but these Historians are not known to be
the type who will bond with other staff. John will use his expertise to move
the scanner as soon as his interpretation of the scene tells him the probe is
in the wrong time window.

 He does not overly concern himself with
the details of the crime. His preparation is to review dress fashions, car
models, news events which were current in the relevant time periods. I think he
knows I’ve arrived and am in the room, but I don’t get much of an
acknowledgment. Good news?

Each Watcher has his own viewing screen,
supplemented by a gigantic screen mounted on the back wall. I’m in the main
room and see a set of large buttons next to my station. Each button is covered
by a bright, bold label. One label reads ‘AHEAD’. The other reads ‘BACK’. In
addition, a small red switch is positioned near a microphone:  this is to allow
a ‘sign-off’ signal. This means we’ve seen the relevant images and the scan can
be terminated.

The massive display almost fills the entire
far wall which I’m facing; my control panel and individual monitor sit at my
station. I’m allowed to decide which monitor I wish to use.  I remember all the
warnings about keeping focused on the event and not the technology. Christ,
enough. I know it’s not a movie, and I have to make quick decisions.

Anytime I recognize a scene, I have to
decide: before or after the shootings? Once the decision is made I press the
proper button to signal the scanning team to move in the appropriate direction,
go back in time or jump ahead.

 The Historian will be doing the same
thing. In case of a disagreement, the scene will play out until resolved. If
the scanning team becomes concerned about the time issues, they will go with
the Historian’s judgment.

Because of Amendment 33-2, if it looks like
a crime scene, they will play it, regardless of the time frame being displayed.
I’m told switching from one scene to another will not be instantaneous, and
there may be a blank screen for 30 seconds, possibly up to five minutes, as
they correctly reposition the probing head.

 I’ve been drinking coffee all morning and
didn’t stop when I got to the prison. Thank God it wasn’t beer or I would be
gone. Wouldn’t that make a great scenario; a hammered Watcher, who doesn’t give
a damn and can’t properly focus on the screen.

A buzzer sounds and the show begins. Jesus,
here we go. The peripheral segments tend to be a bit fuzzy. And, as the scene
plays out, it’s not a smooth transition from one frame to the next; it jerks
along. You still can put it together but it’s not seamless like a TV program.

  The first scene is obviously one from
early in Ronald’s life as a toddler. I see a small pair of hands gripping the
horizontal railings of a crib. I don’t see him, just his hands and arms. And I
see an older woman, must be his grandmother, trying to sooth him with soft
words. “Ronnie, my baby, hush my boy….”.

Jesus Christ, convict Ron as a baby. I’m
floored; no matter how many times I heard the warnings about keeping the focus
off the technology it’s impossible not to be overwhelmed. I'm seeing a read out
of a guy’s memory cell. Christ, it’s fascinating; and I hear the voices as a
young Ron cries and his grandmother tries to comfort him. I have to focus and
get in the game: before I can move, a buzzer sounds indicating the Historian
has pushed the forward button. I just concur with my ‘AHEAD’ button.

I get some recovery time; the screen
remains blank for a few minutes and then another stream of images play on the
screen. The earlier scans used an automated voice over to give Watchers
assurances about blank screens and delays. This proved more of an irritant than
a help and has been dropped.

The AHEAD command drove us too far into the
future and memory displays Ron’s trial. My old partner, who took over the case,
is on the stand with a judge almost leading his testimony. Poor Ron, he drew
Judge Wilber Lewis, who was delighted with his nickname: Hang’em High Lewis.
The man never had to buy a drink anytime he decided to do the rounds of cop
bars.

I’m watching this as a TV program I can’t
go on like this; I have to get over this feeling. It isn’t the technology; I
seem to be thrown because we are invading someone’s memories and peeking into
his private life. My hesitations and slow response could kill Ron. The
Historian beats me to the ‘BACK” button.

We do a couple more jumps and I’m still a
few seconds behind the Historian, but we have not had any disagreements, and
I’m improving. I’m surprised I’m able to recognize some of the time frames,
even though they are not relevant to any crime.  I can’t relax and wish we
would get to the event. Is this taking too long?

The images in combination with the massive
video display are almost like reliving the scene, and I understand why Watchers
are often overwhelmed by the process. God, I wouldn’t want someone looking at
what I have stored in my memory. The memory streams are realistic and detailed.
It’s the voices I find the most disconcerting; they have a ghostly quality, as
if they are surfacing from some distance source and being modulated through a
long tunnel. This isn’t a good description, but it’s the best I can do.

We arrive. The wall fills with an image of
my cousin’s police cruiser. I focus. I see Ronald’s image reflected in the
windshield of the cruiser. Jesus, I can see myself peering out from the passenger
window, a buzz cut for a hair style, a smooth-faced 17-year-old; I stare at my
image. Was I ever that young?

  I see my cousin get out of the cruiser
and walk toward Ronald. Voices flood the room; my cousin is firm and it’s
obvious Ronald is struggling with his speech. He says, he’s walking home which
is a few blocks down the road; they continue talking; I see my cousin pointing
and he says, “Go home….right now.”.

 I’ve been slow, but I hit the ‘AHEAD’
button. The Historian allows it play for a few more seconds; the noise from
down the road explodes across the screen. My cousin jumps into the cruise, and
we are off down the road with Ron standing in our wake, obviously not part of
the unfolding action.  At this point, the Historian hits the ‘AHEAD’ button.
I’m not sweating, but damn it, my hand is shaking. Did too much get displayed
in the scanning room?

Just because we signal AHEAD, it’s no
guarantee that we will end up at some future event. This all depends on the
skill of the scanner and I think luck. Not all brain schema behave or present
the same, some are very complex and not a simple chronological street address
pattern. Dr. Kate used to say she can’t explain the scanning process, but she
says it’s important the scanner not be interrupted. She says it’s not logical,
but a good scanner will get a feeling for the patterns

I hope the next jump doesn’t land us a few
hours prior to the cruiser scene; if we go back a couple of hours in time,
Ronald is finished. No way the Historian or the scanner will move away from
that image, a body, and three drunk teenage boys.. 

Next image up is a prison setting; good, we
have jumped ahead; may the scanner has the pattern; I hope we can keep this
rhythm.  Both of us hit the ‘BACK’ button. Again there is a delay before a new
set of images develop.

This is it. A perfect scene for our
purposes, two men in a heavy discussion. Ronald is arguing with a small
unpleasant man; this guy I know, the robber at the liquor store; he was shot
during the robbery and died at the hospital a few days later. Before he died,
he provided a death bed confession and declaration …….. find my old partner,
Ronald……the bastard fled the scene….my old partner shot the clerk……..Ronald was
the one who panicked.

He said it was Ron’s premature fleeing
which pissed him off and lead to his being shot and captured. The monitor
displays a small club with a long bar which runs from the front door to the
back of the premise. Tall bar stools run in parallel to the bar, and on the
wall facing the patrons is a large mirror, the full length of the club. It’s in
this mirror we see Ron and his buddy.

Reflected in the mirror both faces are
clear, even with the many bottles of booze blocking the bottom segments of
their bodies. The heavy discussion has escalated into a violent argument. The
guy is close to a frenzy. This job is an easy score, and he is already counting
the money.

He needs Ron and the refusal angers him. He
begs but this is not working, next he tries physical threats but this is rather
pathetic, given the size discrepancy. Ronald continues to refuse the guy, and
after some heavy screaming and cursing, the man walks away. With a few fist
shakes, he leaves the bar.

A tall woman with an extreme hair style
slides on to the vacant stool next to Ron; they’re instant friends and the
drinks arrive for both. This is the woman no one could find and who was his
alibi for the time of the robbery and murder.

 I still remember the bar and the decor
which I considered over the top, many ersatz pieces. This old fashion club
proves to be Ron’s salvation.  One of the gaudy pieces is a huge pulsating wall
clock which reflects time and date; the clock hangs slightly above eye level on
the mirror, easy to read. I let it play to ensure we get the confirmation to
prove he was in the bar at the critical time. I give the ‘sign off’ signal, the
Historian follows.

This killer who died in the hospital was an
angry, mean son of a bitch, and his final act of revenge was a false
declaration. I leave the room with the Historian. John is teasing me. I never
knew the bastard had a sense of humor. He sees my shaking hands and thinks this
is funny, a homicide detective stressed with a crime scene. The Historian says
his goodbye; he’s in a hurry; their team is going to celebrate. The Fort Green
project is completed. I’m surprised to hear him say he will join a team
celebration.

 I’m feeling damn good, and I know the Monk
will be dancing when he hears. I won’t tell Sam; I’ll make him call me for the
news. Time to get the hell out of here.

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